


Your Stitches And Your Seams

by 13Kat13



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Caretaking, Discussion of Anxiety, Dom Victor Nikiforov, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Smut, Sub Katsuki Yuuri, Top Victor Nikiforov, but like service dom, get wrecked vitya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 12:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13998804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13Kat13/pseuds/13Kat13
Summary: "But of course for Victor, the fact that Katsuki Yuuri chose him and is in love with him will always be a bit of a shock. And every now and then Yuuri does something like this.Lace. White swirls of it circling the thighs long adored by thousands of loyal Instagram followers, and a source of torture for Victor whenever he’s not allowed to touch for propriety's sake. And lace fades to mesh. It descends down from the top band to lick over the lines of Yuuri’s legs where they’re folded beneath him on the bed. But there’s more lace above that too. Running away from the stockings to frill the line of garter straps, which of course lead to a belt, hugging a waist that’s narrow for the mid-season body Yuuri’s pushed himself into. And there’s the underwear in between. And the gloves.It’s… a lot."What is it to give your control over to someone else? For Yuuri it's a release, for Victor it's a service.





	Your Stitches And Your Seams

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I've been writing a T-rated series for too long. The smut bursts out of me like some kind of goddamn filth werewolf.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I am not part of any sort of dom/sub scene I've just gone with what I know, which is fairly tame and regular for couples I think?
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

There’s a funny feeling that Victor Nikiforov experiences far too often. That shocked one. The one that leaves you breathless and dizzy and just a little weak in the knees. The one movies and books talk about when everything just seems to slow down for a moment, your blood rushing in your ears as all of your senses narrow down to one thing.

 

That one thing for Victor is Katsuki Yuuri. They live together of course. Are engaged to be married in the summer and thoroughly know each others routines, likes and dislikes, inside and out. Yuuri shouldn’t be the source of shock for Victor on such a regular basis. They should be used to each other, and in a way they are. Like the caress of a favourite shirt on each others bodies.

 

But of course for Victor, the fact that Katsuki Yuuri chose him and is in love with him will always be a bit of a shock. And every now and then Yuuri does something like _this._

 

Lace. White swirls of it circling the thighs long adored by thousands of loyal Instagram followers, and a source of torture for Victor whenever he’s not allowed to touch for propriety's sake. And lace fades to mesh. It descends down from the top band to lick over the lines of Yuuri’s legs where they’re folded beneath him on the bed. But there’s more lace above that too. Running away from the stockings to frill the line of garter straps, which of course lead to a belt, hugging a waist that’s narrow for the mid-season body Yuuri’s pushed himself into. And there’s the underwear in between. And the gloves.

 

It’s… a lot.

 

Victor places a shaking hand against the doorframe.

 

“Vitya?” Yuuri’s voice is too soft for this image, his head tipped down slightly as his shoulders hunch a little under Victor’s silent gaze. His hair’s swept back in its competition style, wide, uncertain eyes fixed on his fiance.

 

“Yu…” Victor starts, but it sounds more like a gurgle than anything, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yuuri… I… you look…”

 

The second attempt to find words is clearly no more successful and Victor curses his own traitorous tongue. It should exist only to praise Yuuri. Or to taste him.

 

“Do you like it?” Yuuri asks, wriggling slightly now, looking down to pluck at the material on his legs. “I know we haven’t… done this… I just…”

 

He’s still got that awful uncertainty in his voice. And it’s this which finally propels Victor forward from where he’s half melted against the door to their bedroom.

 

Victor stumbles a little over his dress shoes, sheds his suit jacket and leaves it crumpled on the floor in a way he’d _never_ usually do. Yuuri’s eyes follow the material to the ground, and when he looks back up at Victor the uncertainty has gone. It’s just a thread now. A sparking, almost violent thread of a look that runs between them and tugs Victor forward until he’s towering over Yuuri’s knelt form.

 

“I love it,” Victor says, his voice low and hot and just a little harsh in a way that makes Yuuri’s eyes fall closed with a shuddering intake of breath. “And I love you, moy Yuuri.”

 

When Yuuri’s eyes blink open, they’re already a little hazy, a feverish flush high on his cheeks and spreading down his chest. And god Victor loves that he can do this to him. That yes Yuuri will shock him speechless at times but will also turn into putty under Victor’s words and gaze alone.

 

Victor raises a hand to his shirt sleeve. He watches Yuuri trace the movement with his own eyes, and a slow, syrupy smile spreads across his mouth. He pops the button on his cuff.

 

“Show me.” The whisper sounds tugged from Yuuri like Victor’s second cuff button.

 

Yuuri takes his eyes away from Victor’s wrists to look up at him with imploring eyes, tilting his head to the side in gentle supplication.

 

“Please?”

 

All of Victor’s breath leaves him a rush.

 

See here’s the thing; Yuuri, as many people know and have helped with, has anxiety. But Yuuri, as many people do _not_ know and _cannot_ help with, sometimes likes a very specific solution for said anxiety. From Victor. And that solution is for Yuuri to completely and utterly give every part of himself over to Victor’s care. And to let Victor control it.

 

They’re not always like this. Sometimes they’re just regular; Yuuri rolling over into the heat of Victor’s body after a long day so they can make simple, slow love. And sometimes is entirely the opposite, hot and needy, Yuuri high on life and buzzing with confidence as he seizes Victor by the shoulders to crush their mouths together.

 

But then there’s this. A way for Yuuri to shut off his mind and hand all of his worries over to the person he trusts most. Let Victor — his coach, his fiance, his lover — take the lead and wipe his mind clear. Any and all thought absorbed by the touch of Victor’s mouth and body.

 

It works, and they’ve tried it a few ways with different scenarios. Yuuri is particularly weak for being bound, perhaps due to the way he has to depend on Victor for even movement when his own limbs are locked in place. The first time they’d experimented with kinbaku — just on Yuuri’s arms whilst they got down the basics — Yuuri had sunk to the floor by the time his elbows were together.

 

Today is apparently one of the days Yuuri needs Victor’s control.

 

It’s already dark outside though it’s only six in the evening. There’s snow on the window sill but the sky is quiet now. Victor’s been gone all day. And now Yuuri needs him.

 

But first Victor reaches out, curves a hand under Yuuri’s chin and smoothes his thumb over the hollow of his cheek. It’s like a lightning bolt to finally have touch. But words first. More later.

 

“Are you okay, rodnoy?” Victor asks before they do anything, before he takes over and lets Yuuri lose himself.

 

Yuuri lets out another shaky sigh but nuzzles into Victor’s hand with a smile.

 

“Yes,” he replies, all sweet, pleading eyes as he blinks up at Victor. “I just wanted it like this tonight. I’m fine.”

 

Victor gives a jerky nod. Yuuri’s eyes follow the rise and fall in Victor’s throat as he swallows. They still hold that thread of heat, imploring Victor to be reeled in by it as they flick back up to meet Victor’s own gaze. Victor has to stop himself from letting it.

 

“You were okay on your own?” he presses, the pad of his thumb coming to rest at the corner of Yuuri’s mouth.

 

That corner hitches up as Yuuri smiles — expression taking on a fondness that scrunches his nose up for a moment — before he turns his head to kiss that thumb.

 

“I had Makkachin,” Yuuri points out, his breath hot on Victor’s pad. “And I skyped Phichit and got some food in.”

 

Victor breaths out a sigh of relief, letting it draw the tension from his shoulders. Had it been present, Victor would have happily got the anxiety out of Yuuri with the method he clearly wants. But in that case Victor would also have liked to talk first. Or after. Just somewhere in between it all so he can make sure all the pieces of his universe are stitched back together.

 

“You went grocery shopping?” Victor asks now, smoothing his hand back to the nape of Yuuri’s neck, winding his fingers into the hair there. “Good boy.”

 

The purr of his words and the way he tightens his grip just a little has Yuuri’s breath hitching, the rabbiting pace of his pulse visible in his throat as Victor tips his head back.

 

And Yuuri, world champion and eros on ice, has certainly proved that he’s no shy Japanese househusband. But Victor with his shirt sleeves rolled up like this, his tie still on but free of the shell of his jacket definitely seems to do something for Yuuri. He seems to curl himself over more surfaces, back arched as he tilts a certain look at Victor. The damsel and seductress all in one, a simple sway of the hips that holds such desperate helplessness whilst also teasing come hither.

 

So Victor repeats his praise.

 

“Such a good boy for me,” he murmurs, watching the effect of the words on Yuuri, the way his shoulders go slack, lips falling open, chest rising and falling sharply. He looks up at Victor with utter adoration. It’s almost too much.

 

Victor bends at the waist, watches Yuuri’s eyes go wide and then slide shut in anticipation. He stops mere millimeters away from Yuuri’s lips, feels those jagged breaths against his own.

 

“Did you clean yourself for me too?” he asks then, and feels Yuuri’s responding whimper more than he hears it.

 

 _“Yes,”_ Yuuri sighs, already fraying, the perfect posture he’d had when Victor came in now gone to ruins.

 

“Good,” Victor hums, draws it out. Before he brings up his other hand to grip Yuuri’s shoulder, sees his eyes go wide as Victor flips him.

 

Yuuri lands on his front with a huff, long legs kicked up with his momentum before they come to a rest, ankles and feet dangling over the side of the bed. Victor sinks to his knees.

 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, and sees Yuuri’s hand fly out to the side to grip one of the pillows he now lies parallel to.

 

Yuuri needs the praise. Likes the encouragement and pampering more than any sort of punishment, despite what ropes and even the occasional toy could suggest. Perhaps it’s some kind of carry over from their roles on the ice, Yuuri placing his fate in Victor’s hands when he needs his fiance to believe in him more than he does. Tell him what to do, compliment him for all of his efforts.

 

Victor cradles Yuuri’s left foot in his palms. His fiance’s everything, right here in Victor’s hands, bruises visible through the fine white mesh. Victor leans down and scrapes his teeth over the heel. The resulting whine is half muffled by the sheet between Yuuri’s teeth.

 

“So good,” Victor will say again and again, his mouth trailing up Yuuri’s achilles, sucking on his ankle. “Getting ready for me... But I hate that whilst I was stuck in some _fucking_ meeting I could have been _fucking_ you.”

 

Yuuri keens and there’s a shift as his hips angle up slightly, unconsciously presenting himself. So willing, so needy. The scalloped edge of the underwear Yuuri’s donned cut across that tight curve of his backside. The skin there will always be paler than the rest of him, when the summer months come and paint his limbs in gold Victor will still be able to squeeze that soft, hidden flesh and watch the white turn to pink.

 

Victor swallows. Then makes himself pause, heartbeat solid in his ears. He’ll get there eventually.

 

For now he nibbles his way up Yuuri’s calf, lays his tongue flat against the white stocking material to watch it darken on Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri’s wriggling, breathy little noises escaping him as Victor works up his leg until his hands fasten over Yuuri’s hips and pin them firmly into place. And Yuuri lets out his first moan.

 

“That’s it,” Victor says, not moving his hands as he watches Yuuri’s body tremble, gradually releasing itself into Victor’s control. “Relax.”

 

And Yuuri does. The single word command instantaneously pools his muscles into the mattress where they lie obediantly pliant. Victor gives his buttcheek a little pat and Yuuri huffs.

 

Victor can’t help the laugh that slips from him as he leans forward, attaches his mouth to the notch of spine at the base of Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri’s muscles lock at the contact for a moment, before he forces them to relax again. He can’t help the occasional twitch though, especially as Victor’s tie drags over the skin of his back. Victor hides his predator’s grin.

 

“Stay there,” he commands, and Yuuri does, not even peeking over his shoulder as Victor’s hands leave him.

 

Victor straightens, his eyes dragging over Yuuri’s form as he reaches a hand up to his tie. The floral silk — loud and undeniably Victor — comes loose with a tug, and Victor sees Yuuri twitch again at the sound of the material slipping free of Victor’s collar. He’s breathtaking and Victor’s so hard already.

 

He sees no reason to leave the rest of his clothes on either, and they join the pile of his coat, his shoes thudding somewhere off to his left. Yuuri lets out a little giggle as one of them sounds like it makes contact with the dressing table, some unknown item toppling from it.

 

“What’s funny, miliy?” Victor asks, grinning too as he settles over Yuuri, caging those gorgeous shoulders with his arms.

 

Yuuri just presses his face further into the sheets by way of response, so Victor leans down to suck a mark to his shoulder, his body following. Yuuri gasps at the sensation of Victor’s bare skin against his own, back automatically curving and therefore pushing his butt into Victor’s hips.

 

Victor grunts. He’d been able to ignore his still clothed hardness, but now he gives himself a moment’s relief as he grinds forward against Yuuri.

 

The lace is bumpy even through the material of Victor’s briefs. And Yuuri can only keen in response as it rides up a little, exposes more of that perfect backside as his hands flap uselessly across the sheets. Those hands grip and release repeatedly as Victor rocks against him, and Victor remembers his initial plan. He eases off, hovering over Yuuri again with only the outsides of his knees touching Yuuri on the insides of his.

 

Yuuri makes a displeased sound, and looks over his shoulder at Victor with a look that burns with the heat of his arousal and annoyance. Victor laughs, but no he can’t have that.

 

“Hush,” he soothes, ever so slightly scolding as he fastens a hand over the nape of Yuuri’s neck.

 

Yuuri goes stiff with the sensation for a moment, before he relaxes back against the bed. He blinks a couple of times, settling into the weight of Victor’s palm pressed to his neck. Victor stays there until he sees Yuuri’s face go slack again. Until he lets himself relax back into Victor’s hold.

 

It’s a lot. For Yuuri to have this trust in him. Sometimes Victor feels he’ll crack with it, but then Yuuri’s there for him too, the supports that he’s built around Victor making themselves known as Yuuri utilises them ruthlessly to make Victor happy again. The acts of kindness like home cooked meals and a massage in a bubble bath are obvious. But there’s also the things that make Victor blink as he realises just what Yuuri’s bought him. A wider set of cutlery for the growing number of times they have guests over. Video calls from Hasetsu that’re just as much to check up on Victor as they are to check up on Yuuri. And a body. A body beside his in their bed and arms to hold him, words to comfort.

 

And people actually thought Victor was giving something up when he took a break from the ice.

 

“Good,” Victor praises by way of reward for Yuuri’s obedience. He eases the hand off, trailing a finger down Yuuri’s spine as he does. Yuuri shivers.

 

“Right,” Victor says next, retrieving his tie from where it lay forgotten on the sheets.

 

He gives it a little snap between his fists and watches the muscles of Yuuri’s thighs lock for a moment in response. Wanting to grind, wanting to push forward, gain friction. Yuuri’s good though, and stays still instead, lets Victor drag his arms together and holds them obediently in place as he works. Victor gives his wrist a little peck as a reward.

 

He ties the silk around Yuuri’s elbows rather than his wrists, knowing how Yuuri likes the stretch of this position, the tension it pulls across his chest as its pushed out. And indeed by the time Victor’s done with his well practiced knots Yuuri is panting against the bed.

 

Victor sits back against his heels then, takes a moment to look at Yuuri. Victor’s still knelt between his spread legs, Yuuri’s bulge visible where it’s pressed against the sheets, white lace against white cotton. Victor wants to taste. So badly.

 

But first he lays a hand flat on each of Yuuri’s quivering thighs.

 

“Okay, miliy?” he asks, voice a low murmur that’s free from the heat for a moment, just quiet concern.

 

Victor can see the hitch in Yuuri’s cheek as he smiles and one eye sliding closed. He nods weakly.

 

“Can you say it aloud for me, love?” Victor asks, unable to resist sliding the hands resting on Yuuri’s thighs down a little, lace bumping over his fingertips until they reach mesh.

 

Yuuri releases a slow, measured sigh. And on the end of it comes a _“yes, Vitya.”_

 

Victor burns for him.

 

“That’s good, miliy,” Victor replies, before he reaches forward, grabs Yuuri’s hips, and with sharp, decisive strength hoists them up from the mattress. Yuuri gasps.

 

“Tell me if it ever gets too much,” Victor says, and then leans in to sink his teeth into the flesh of Yuuri’s backside.

 

The cry Yuuri lets out is a broken thing. Victor’s own, triggered by the sound and by finally having part of Yuuri in his mouth, is muffled by skin.

 

Yuuri likes this kind of pain. Light, teasing, never enough to leave marks but sharp enough to have him hardening even more under those ridiculous panties. They’re still all rucked up, exposing Yuuri to the best of their ability as Victor lays bites and kisses over what may well be the money maker of the Katsuki-Nikiforov household. Yuuri’s butt certainly has enough fans for it.

 

Yuuri’s noises have started in earnest as Victor gets to work on the garter straps. This is a fine art. If Victor play it right, Yuuri’s lingerie becomes part of the restraints too. Tangling him as its repositioned. So Victor takes off the belt, tosses it away to the side with a skittering noise that makes Yuuri press his face further into the mattress, but drags the underwear down only until Yuuri’s knees. This way, as Yuuri shudders — hips jerking, legs straining — he can only part his knees so wide.

 

It’s effective, and as Victor takes a moment to watch Yuuri writhe, see his forearms push forward so his fists are straining to the sides, Victor can see he’s wonderfully hard. Yuuri’s freed erection hangs heavy between the legs he’s trying to spread further.

 

“Vitya…” Yuuri’s needy plea brings Victor back around from where he’s been staring, entranced.

 

“Sorry, malysh,” Victor coos, splays his hands back over those hips, stopping their slight rocking with a simple squeeze. “I’ve got you.”

 

Yuuri stops his wriggling at that. Releases it along with an exhale.

 

“Good,” Victor assures him quietly, and Yuuri gives a contended hum in reply.

 

Victor smiles, leans forward to brush the curve of it against Yuuri’s rear. The next time Victor whispers praise, the words are breathed against the fluttering hole of Yuuri’s entrance. Before he gives it a long, slow lick.

 

The scream that Yuuri releases never quite reaches crescendo, pushed into the mattress as his face is, his throat stretched to the point that his voice is a little throttled.

 

Victor grins, uses it to tease his teeth along the rim his tongue is working. At the moment it’s just licks, but every now and then he applies a slight pressure that has Yuuri pushing his hips back for more. Victor denies him, lets Yuuri get to the point when his moans are a pleading thing. And only at that point does he push his tongue inside.

 

Yuuri’s gone silent now, apparently holding his breath, but he still rocks his hips back against Victor’s face, jerky with the sensation. Yuuri loves this. It’s probably only second to having Victor’s cock inside him. Which reminds Victor what he still needs to do.

 

When Victor’s touch leaves him this time Yuuri is too gone to protest. He just trembles and waits patiently, fully on display as Victor turns to reach back and open the side table drawer. When he looks back, the sight nearly squeezes the breath out of him.

 

So Victor slows then. Places the lube he’s retrieved down on the bed beside Yuuri’s knee and reaches for his arms. They’re still straining forward, his elbows bent where Victor’s tie holds them inches apart. Victor takes them gently, eases the joints out of their locked position until they go pliant in his hands. Yuuri lets out a grateful sigh, his tremors easing slightly at Victor’s gentle touch.

 

Victor smiles, heart warm, and hooks his fingers under his tie to get at the lacy tops of Yuuri’s gloves. The material slides away with ease, the high silk content of the mesh meaning it slides smoothly over Yuuri’s skin until both arms are free of the gloves.

 

“Better?” Victor asks, because Yuuri is quiet even though he seems happy.

 

“Mm… yes,” Yuuri agrees, which is startling vocal for him at a time like this.

 

“I’m glad,” Victor says, disposing of the gloves before retrieving the lube.

 

He unsnaps the cap and sees Yuuri go still at the sound.

 

“Because I want to fuck you,” Victor says, and hears the sharp inhale that elicits. “Slow, how I like it. But also deep, how _you_ like it.”

 

Victor leans forward now his fingers are coated, plants his free hand up near where Yuuri’s shoulders rest on the bed. He can see his face like this, how Yuuri’s eyes have fallen shut, mouth open.

 

“Push in until you can feel all of me,” Victor goes on, and it’s almost a whisper now, words dropped down into the space between his lips and the skin of Yuuri’s back. His fingers trail between Yuuri’s cheeks. “Until you can feel just what you do to me, malysh. And then I’ll take you apart.”

 

Yuuri gasps as the lube hits his entrance cold, his shoulders curling inwards at the sensation, eyes screwing tighter. Victor slides the hand he’s propped up on across the space so the tips of his fingers brush Yuuri’s slightly parted lips. Yuuri’s eyes flutter open at the touch, and he turns his head a little more to meet Victor’s gaze over his shoulder. Victor smiles down at him, and feels something curl inside himself at the dazed, fond smile he gets in return. He pushes his fingers in.

 

Yuuri’s eyes go wide. Still trained on Victor’s, they melt back into the heat of the situation, take stock of the two fingers being slowly pressed in, and silently beg Victor for more. Victor would give him everything.

 

So he pushes the fingers repeatedly in, watches Yuuri struggle to keep his eyes open and on his fiance as the sensation grows. His legs kick up, twitching with the sensitivity, and when Victor crooks his fingers just so against that one place, Yuuri _groans._ It’s a beautiful thing, just the right pitch to punch the breath from Victor’s lungs.

 

He lets his head drop onto Yuuri’s back, lays a kiss there to distract him as he pushes in a third finger.

 

Yuuri’s choking out words now. Something he only does when he’s trying not to come, Victor being the more verbal one of the two of them. And it doesn’t really make sense, is mainly just pleas for more along with Victor’s name. So Victor obliges, fucks his fingers in hard until Yuuri’s almost sobbing. He can feel Yuuri’s wet heat clenching rhythmically around him. And he has to swallow, the need pooling in his gut.

 

But then Victor eases off, knowing if he carries on when Yuuri’s this worked up it won’t last long. Of course with Yuuri’s stamina that’s not usually an issue. The Katsuki Yuuri recovery time is a wonderful thing, but Victor likes this too, the wrung out look of his fiance. How Yuuri’s hair is slipping from it’s pushed back style and the lines of his back are slightly slick now, making him glow under the soft yellow of the lamplight. So Victor leans down to taste, his fingers slipping out as he does.

 

Yuuri can only shiver slightly at the line Victor licks up his spine, too overloaded already to be able to do more. Victor kisses his way up over his shoulder, Yuuri’s bound arms coming against his chest as he leans in close to press one to Yuuri’s cheek too. His hard cock bumps the back of Yuuri’s thigh. And Yuuri’s eyes are a little glassy as they slip shut.

 

“You okay?” Victor breathes, nuzzling his nose in behind Yuuri’s ear.

 

He breathes in deeply, revels in Yuuri’s usual smell — shampoo, hair gel, Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri — buzzing with the scent of sex now too.

 

“Mm…” Yuuri agrees, tipping his head up so he can reciprocate, pushing Victor’s face further into his locks.

 

Victor takes a moment, feels the heat of the body bent beneath his. Then; “good. Want me to untie your arms?”

 

Yuuri pauses now, thinks about it, then shakes his head.

 

“You sure?” Victor checks.

 

It’s only momentary, handing back the decision making to Yuuri. Victor eases the stress of it by sitting back up so he can take Yuuri’s bound arms into his hands. He rubs at them, soothing any aches or tingling they may be feeling. Yuuri sighs.

 

“In a bit maybe,” he concedes, before biting his lip as some of the blood rushes back into his hands thanks to Victor’s ministrations, renewing their feeling.

 

“Okay,” Victor agrees, and then drops Yuuri’s arms to grab up the lube instead.

 

They’re long past using condoms, only do so when they have to be fast and don’t want as much mess. But now they have all the time they need; Yuuri’s rest day is tomorrow, Victor’s sponsor meeting is done with. Victor can fill him up, get Yuuri messy, handle the clean up after and shower him with love for hours. It’s the sweetest gift. To have time.

 

So Victor takes it as he slicks his own cock up. He watches Yuuri’s back roll a little in anticipation, push his butt out further, inviting, teasing. Victor smiles to himself as he throws the bottle to the side again. To think that once upon a time this was the same shy boy who ran away from him in the onsen. Victor loves all of them. Every single version of Yuuri. Even the ones that hurt.

 

Victor straightens, pulls Yuuri’s hips back and slides his slicked cock teasingly between Yuuri’s cheeks. Yuuri lets out a shaky breath, and his hands come up to grip over Victor’s. The tie is still straining a little between his elbows, and from the look of the material Victor will either have to get it thoroughly pressed or write it off altogether. He’s pulled back from the thought by Yuuri giving his hands a squeeze.

 

“Vitya…” Yuuri pleads, turning his face into the sheets as he begs.

 

“Of course, malysh,” Victor agrees easily, freeing one hand from Yuuri’s grip to take hold of himself and line up properly. “You’ve been so good.”

 

Victor closes his eyes for a moment, breathes in time with the inviting hitches Yuuri’s making against him. And then pushes in.

 

There’s enough lube and prep that he’s able to slide about half way in straight off, but it still seems to choke the air out of Yuuri. He goes tight around Victor, and Victor lets out a cry as the intensity of it bows his body instinctively forwards, muscles shaking, heat seeking heat. He sees his fringe tickling Yuuri’s back before he squeezes his eyes shut.

 

“Oh,” he pants, fingers tight on Yuuri’s hips as he tries not to come straight away. “Oh my…”

 

But Yuuri has other ideas.

 

“Vitya…” and it’s a proper whine this time, desperate and torn, cracked by the length entering him as Yuuri wriggles a little.

 

“Yes, love,” Victor agrees, choked out, just as ruined as Yuuri now though he’s stiving to retain his composure for a little longer.

 

Victor draws out just a little, and then pushes back in further. Yuuri’s neck strains as he pushes his face hard into the duvet, moan muffled by it. Victor repeats the motion a few more times, deeper with each thrust, lets Yuuri just just enjoy it for a moment. But when he’s fully seated he smooths one hand up between Yuuri’s shoulder blades.

 

“Moy Yuuri,” Victor pants, throat tight with the intensity of Yuuri around him. “No... let me hear you.”

 

Victor fastens the hand into Yuuri’s hair and uses it to gently pry Yuuri’s face from the bed, turn his head so Victor can see his flushed face, wet around the eyes.

 

“Oh love…”

 

“Vitya…” is the only thing Yuuri’s capable of sobbing in reply.

 

Victor hushes him gently, lovingly. He’s not worried. Yuuri has a tendency to tear up when he gets overstimulated. Clearly being teased and now the blunt pressure of Victor inside him, filling him up completely, has sent him trembling right up to the edge.

 

Victor leans down to take hold of his shoulders, uses them to lift Yuuri up as he sits back. Yuuri gasps as his full weight comes back onto Victor’s lap, driving the cock inside him deep.

 

Yuuri’s head falls back, arms limp where they’re still bound and pressed between their bodies. Victor peppers kisses over Yuuri’s cheek, let’s him readjust before he tips him up a little and grinds his hips forward.

 

“Ahh!” Yuuri cries, and then grabs at Victor’s hips.

 

There’s a ripping noise as a seam in the tie splits, the loop still holding strong around Yuuri’s elbows as Victor starts to drive up into him.

 

“Fuck, Yuuri,” Victor pants, not caring at all as he looks down at his ruined tie, then down further at where they’re connected.

 

His hips are still slamming up, cock disappearing into that tight, velvet heat that glistens with lube, pink with the friction. Victor lets his head fall forward to thunk between Yuuri’s shoulder blades.

 

“Vit —  ah-ha — Vitya?” Yuuri asks, the words broken out of some half concerned part of him, not fully dormant even now, even as his body rocks with Victor’s thrusts.

 

“Yes, love,” Victor’s able to reply, presses a kiss to his back before biting his lip and slamming up extra hard.

 

Yuuri can’t even make a sound beyond a sharp inhale of breath. But then it’s a torrent of desperate words, thick with arousal.

 

“God, Vitya, untie me, fuck, yes, harder —”

 

On and on as Victor scrambles to untie the tie, momentum slowing as he finds the knot unbreachable. Yuuri makes an impatient noise and pushes his chest out further so his elbows draw closer together, the tie slipping with the slack. Victor gets it immediately, and tips him unceremoniously forwards so Yuuri’s head and shoulders land with a surprised huff and Victor has room to slip the tie off.

 

With his newly free arms Yuuri plants his hands and raises himself up onto all fours. And slams his body back.

 

“Fuck!” Victor curses, digging his nails a little too hard into Yuuri’s love handles, still a little meaty even in mid-season. He pets over the crescent marks in apology, but Yuuri doesn’t seem to care, he’s too busy pushing himself back repeatedly, driving himself back on Victor’s cock and chasing his pleasure.

 

Victor lets it happen, pursues Yuuri’s rhythm with his own so that their skin slaps together. It’s so much, the heat of it pooling low in his abdomen, between his thighs, choking his voice. Victor goes with it, his head falling forward so his chin hits his chest, bottom lip sucked tight between his teeth.

 

But then something tightens in his stomach, in his groin, and Victor seizes Yuuri’s hips, forcing him to stop with Victor buried deep inside as he fights to regain control.

 

“Vitya?” Yuuri’s breathless voice asks, and Victor feels him shift to look over his shoulder.

 

After a moment Victor looks up and meets his questioning gaze with a smile.

 

“Sorry, malysh,” Victor says, patting his rump once. “Nearly lost it. Turn over, I want to see you.”

 

Victor catches the glimpse of Yuuri’s smile as he ducks his head again, twists his body round with Victor’s help so he lies flat on his back. Victor’s slipped out of him, but he ignores it for a moment as he takes stock of Yuuri.

 

The underwear are still around his knees, looking stretched possibly beyond repair from where Yuuri’s strained against them. The socks are still on too, and Victor smoothes his hands up them to reach the underwear and slip them off.

 

Yuuri watches him with bright, hot eyes, a little smile tickling the corners of his mouth. Victor flings the panties over his shoulder in favour of kissing Yuuri, smothers his laugh with his own lips.

 

Yuuri’s expression is playful when Victor pulls back slightly, dragging his nose up the side of Yuuri’s as he does.

 

“Have I been good so far?” he asks, blinking innocently up at Victor, cheeks bright with exertion.

 

Victor narrows his eyes at him, but Yuuri only laughs again and flings his arms around Victor’s neck.

 

“You have…” Victor agrees slowly.

 

Yuuri giggles.

 

“You don’t sound so sure,” he points out gleefully, then bites his bottom lip. Victor wants to suck it from his teeth.

 

“Well I’m not sure I like your tone,” Victor says, reaching down between them so he can guide his cock to slide teasingly over Yuuri’s entrance.

 

Yuuri’s grin goes a little slack at that, his arms tightening around Victor’s neck as he legs spread wider.

 

“I’ll have whatever tone you want me to,” Yuuri promises, hips rocking invitingly. “Just put it back in.”

 

Victor tilts his head, smirks a little as he continues just to tease Yuuri.

 

“But you’re still so vocal, love,” Victor points out, presses a little harder with the tip before backing off again, making Yuuri moan in frustration. “So cheeky.”

 

“Oh, shit, God,” Yuuri hisses, and glares at him.

 

But then his gaze melts, eyes going wide and imploring as Yuuri presses those kiss-stained lips of his together in a little pout. Victor’s eyes flick to them quickly, then back up to see a little flash of glee in Yuuri’s.

 

“Please, Vitya?” he asks, slightly breathy. “Please fuck me?”

 

Well that’s just not playing fair. Yuuri only ever swears in two places; the bedroom and when playing 3am video games with Phichit. It’s certainly very effective.

 

But Victor just smiles, plays along like he knows Yuuri wants him to.

 

“There’s a good boy,” Victor says, before he thrusts back in with a strength that wipes the little smirk off Yuuri’s face.

 

In this position, Victor’s able to see the way Yuuri’s eyes roll back, watch the breath leave him as Victor slides home. He hitches one of Yuuri’s knees over his elbow to help him stay in place, then starts fucking forward in deep, tight thrusts, each sliding past Yuuri’s prostate in a way that has his arms going slack around Victor’s neck.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Yuuri starts to chant with each thrust, thighs tightening around Victor. “Oh god, Vitya, that’s good.”

 

“Yeah?” Victor asks, leaning down to latch his mouth onto Yuuri’s pulse point, drive his hips in with one deep roll as he does. It makes him shudder as much as it does Yuuri, both of their arms tightening around each other.

 

“Yes!” Yuuri whines, threading his fingers tight through Victor’s hair to make sure he doesn’t pull back from this angle.

 

“Good,” Victor says against his skin, lets the word slide over him like warm honey and feels Yuuri shiver and clench around him in response.

 

This angle has Yuuri panting, hot and desperate in Victor’s ear. So Victor gives it to him, hard and just on the edge of ruthless like he knows Yuuri wants. Yuuri’s back bows, body arching up into Victor’s as his cries reach a desperate, cracked pitch. So close.

 

“I love the sounds you make, malysh,” Victor bites out into his ear, tone not nearly as smooth as it has been up to now. “So pretty for me, so good.”

 

And that has Yuuri quaking, so close to coming without even being touched. Everytime Victor manages that is a reason to toast, so he keeps fucking his hips forward, keeps pushing Yuuri’s body to the edge of its endurance.

 

“I want you to come for me, love,” Victor tells him, buries the words behind his ear. “Come for me _now.”_

 

And it’s the order that does it. Has Yuuri’s back arching to breaking point as he comes between them, warm even on their flushed skin. Then he’s shuddering almost violently, the shocks of it absorbed by Victor’s body, jerks contained by Victor above him, around him.

 

So Victor just continues to hold him through it, slows a little in his thrusts so they’re not as bed shakingly hard. Yuuri gradually loosens, though he’s still twitching with shivers.

 

“Vitya?”

 

“Yes, love,” Victor says, and tilts up so he can see Yuuri’s hazy expression, staring up at him a little lost but with nothing less than complete and utter devotion.

 

And there’s his catching point. Victor’s hips come grinding forward, deep and hard like the groan that’s torn out of him. His eyes shudder closed but he hears Yuuri’s appreciative whimper, how his arms slip so his hands fall slack against Victor’s collarbones. But mainly all Victor can feel is how Yuuri’s clenching around him, helping him through it, sucking out the fire that’s licking between his legs.

 

Victor’s head falls forward again, ear to ear with Yuuri as the electric pulses continue to bleed out of him, helpless thrusts deep into his lover’s body.

 

Eventually Victor stills. Let’s just the right amount of weight bear down as he relaxes, Yuuri’s contented hum in reply, his fingers stroking patterns across Victor’s back.

 

Victor always feels most primal like this. Spent and still buried inside Yuuri, sleepy and instinct lead as his fiance lets him rest against him.

 

“I love you,” Victor says, slurred into the skin of Yuuri’s shoulder. Because that feeling’s primal too. Arcane and mythological in the scale of it within Victor’s body. A great vein of rich mineral, the first drawings to be etched by human hands into his soul. Yuuri’s hands.

 

“Mm…” Yuuri hums in return, gives his shoulder blade a little pinch. “Love you too.”

 

Victor huffs and buries in deeper, arms locking around Yuuri more firmly as he snuggles and then relaxes again. Yuuri giggles.

 

“What?” Victor asks, unable to help the responding smile already stretching across his face.

 

“You always sound like a sleepy bear after sex,” Yuuri replies, voice bright with laughter. “All the little grumbley noises you make.”

 

“That’s because I’m a Russian man,” Victor points out easily. “We’re all bears.”

 

“Okay,” Yuuri says, and now Victor can hear the playful eye roll.

 

So he gathers Yuuri into his arms, easily lifting him as he sits up. Yuuri gasp dissolves into a delighted giggle as he’s manhandled up, out of bed and tossed easily over Victor’s shoulder. There’s wetness on the stocking clad thigh Victor has a hand clamped around, and it’s enough to make him twitch with interest again, but he’s too taken by the laughter streaming out of Yuuri.

 

“Vitya, you _oaf,_ put me — down!” Yuuri protests, but Victor’s a hundred percent sure it’s just for show, so he just hums a tune and adds a little more bounce to his stride as he crosses to the en suite.

 

Yuuri hacks out a laugh and kicks a little.

 

Victor snaps on the light in the bathroom and kicks the door closed all with Yuuri still over his shoulder. Then he stands dramatically in the middle of the bathroom, one eye on Yuuri in the mirror.

 

“I’d really like to take a bath with my fiance,” he carols, releasing one hand from Yuuri’s thigh to prop it against his own hip. “But I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

 

“Vitya, I’m not a child, that won’t —”

 

Yuuri’s sentence is broken off by a gasp as Victor spins sharply on the spot to look in the other direction.

 

“Is he here?” Victor asks the room, registering the vibrations of Yuuri’s laughter even as he struggles weakly. “No... Is he…”

 

Victor spins again, and this time Yuuri smacks his butt.

 

“...Here?”

 

“Vitya, stop,” Yuuri groan-laughs, actually making attempts to escape now. “I’m gonna throw up.”

 

Victor helps him down gently, steadies him as the blood rushes away from Yuuri’s flushed head. When he’s regained his balance Yuuri scowls at him, but it’s flickering with mirth. Victor swoops in and kisses him, before jostling him over to the toilet to sit down on its lid. Victor straightens when Yuuri’s sat, arches a smirk at him.

 

“Stay,” he says in teasing imitation of earlier, and turns to go fill the tub.

 

He hears Yuuri huff behind him and the slide of material as he drags the stockings off, and grins.

 

It’s only after they’re submerged in the water together — Yuuri between Victor’s legs because Victor’s still in service mode and giving him a shoulder rub — that Yuuri admits something.

 

“It wasn’t that I was stressed today,” he starts, and Victor goes very quiet and attentive as his hands work, knowing that Yuuri’s finally got to the place where he can talk. “It’s just that it’s like… _months_ of stress at this time of year.”

 

Victor hums in agreement, fully aware of the competitive season stress, even though this is his last one and he’s running through it like a kid at a festival. It’s not like Victor even cares that much about winning medals anymore. He’ll always be competitive, but there are so many other, far more important things for him to worry about now. Like the knots in Yuuri’s shoulders that he’s working out.

 

“I know, miliy,” Victor agrees, pops a little kiss against the back of Yuuri’s head. “But it’s better right? Not to dismiss how you’re feeling, but… I help right?”

 

The water sloshes as Yuuri turns to face him, expression soft and earnest as he pins a kiss to each of Victor’s cheeks and then his lips.

 

“Of course you do,” Yuuri assures him.

 

“And you can still tell me,” Victor assures him. “Whether I’m helping or making it worse or if it’s nothing to do with me. I want to hear it.”

 

Yuuri’s smile is warmer than the bath water, breaking over Victor like sunshine.

 

“I know I can,” he says, and then settles his shoulder against Victor’s chest, both hands coming around one of Victor’s beneath the water.

 

Victor just hums and lets it swell in him. This all consuming, earth shaking love. It could change the course of history, a love like theirs. Hell it _has_ changed the course of history, what with their frequent and very gay declarations of love at multiple international sporting events.

 

But in this apartment it’s just them. Disgustingly domestic and warm as they bathe together. And Victor would take that over any world record, history making or not.  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, come join me in my screaming chambers of [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ewokthrowdown).


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